


Kodoku

by bethfrish



Category: Fushigi Yuugi
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-25
Updated: 2008-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 02:21:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethfrish/pseuds/bethfrish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do not forget this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kodoku

"I will kill her," Tamahome breathes. "I'll see that she suffers until her final moment. I will make you proud."

Nakago runs his nails down the inside of Tamahome's thigh. "Hmm," he murmurs, and kisses the boy until his lips are swollen and bruised and he is breathless beneath him. Nakago takes him on the bed in his chambers, fucks him among the shadows of the back gate, makes love to him in the gardens where the sickly-sweet scent of flowers in bloom thickens the night and chokes them with every breath. Nakago pulls his hair and leaves teeth marks on his shoulder, while Tamahome looks skyward at the dull and absent stars and laughs hungrily with his eyes. 

"I will kill her," he says passionately. "To prove that I am worthy of you." 

Nakago raises his arm, but Tamahome reaches out and catches him by the wrist. A smile cracks across the boy's face, flowing like a river over his cheeks and into the grass where the strangling flowers grow. "Tamahome," Nakago says after a moment. "You are nothing if not worthy. Do not forget this." 

Tamahome regards him, loosening the fingers around his wrist. "Never," he replies heavily, and kisses Nakago on the mouth. "I promise." 

At this Nakago wrenches his arm free and grabs Tamahome by the hair. "You may find, one day, that promises are worthless. Forget what I have said," he commands, and slowly pushes the boy back to the ground. 

Weeks later, when Tamahome is still repenting for the effects of the poison, his friends can only offer their forgiveness and repeated meaningless comforts. _But you have no recollection of that time. You were not yourself._ He tries to subdue his guilt with their words, but it takes time for these brittle excuses to overcome the evidence of his crimes. Little by little, the guilt trickles away. The wounds he inflicted heal, and the warriors of Suzaku move on to more pressing matters. 

Only two memories linger in the aftermath of his recovery, obscure and unnerving: the sharp ache that burns in his chest at the sight of Nakago, stronger now than ever before, and that since his return, Miaka's kisses taste of the too-ripe flowers that bloom only in Kutou.


End file.
